


The Reason

by Librarity



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Gotham (TV)
Genre: Car Chases, Confessions, Crime Fighting, Dorks in Love, Fluff and Angst, Handcuffs, Hiding in Plain Sight, Idiots in Love, Love Confessions, Organized Crime, Pining Oswald Cobblepot, Secret Identity, Temporary Character Death
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-31
Updated: 2019-07-31
Packaged: 2020-06-29 03:50:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19821946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Librarity/pseuds/Librarity
Summary: Life can take some wild turns,  Oswald has learned that well,  and he's very good at anticipating them.But some twists even Oswald Cobblepot can't predict. He never could have predicted the way life brought him to Jim Gordon,  never in a million years! But then, Gotham was a strange place, he should have expected a happy ending to blindside them both.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BlackArticFox](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlackArticFox/gifts).



> A gift for my dearest BlackArticFox!  
> And anyone else reading this, I hope you also enjoy this!

Harvey starred down the barrel of his personal gun, watching his target fidget under his scrutiny, trapped there in the closed off alleyway. He had gone hunting and he had found his intended prey, and he waited until he could catch him alone.

The gun only shook for a second and it was not due to doubt, but to the alcohol the detective previously consumed; he needed those drinks more than ever these days just to get out of bed. 

Oswald hands, however, were shaking as he held them out as if they could fend off the bullet, "Wait, listen to me!"

"Give me one good reason not to put one between your eyes, Penguin!" Harvey barked, the anger a hard edge in his voice. 

"Because I didn't do it! I had nothing whatsoever to do with it! I would never-" his vice hitched either from fear or from the weight of his own words, "I would never hurt Jim! Not ever!"

"And why should I believe you?" Harvey ground out. 

Those hands lowered almost entirely, green eyes shiny as they starred so intently at the man behind the gun, "I'm trying to find out who did this too! We're after the same thing!"

Harvey purposefully adjusted his grip on the gun, "Again, why should I believe you? Give me a good reason! You two have had plenty of reason to be at each other over the years, plenty of reason to kill each other! What's stopping you from being the one to finally do it, huh?"

"Yes!" Cobblepot snapped back, eyes suddenly fiery, "we had our quarrels, our differences! But that's exactly it! We never took that last step! Why would I do it now?"

"Why not, Penguin? You've put a hit out on him once before, why not again? He wouldn't see it coming. It would have given you the advantage. Why wouldn't you do it?" Harvey pressed the way he would in any investigation, "Maybe you saw a golden opportunity to expand your connections by taking him out, and you took it, like the opportunistic snake you are!"

Oswald swallowed, his voice nearly trembling but something strong ran down the center, "You know why already. You know why I could never hurt him, why this could not have been me... you know, and it's the reason you haven't shot me yet."

It was true, he did know. He'd watched them together, seen that look passing between them too many times not to know, "Tell me, I want to hear you say it, then I can be sure."

The quiver returned full force to that soft voice, "I didn't do this because... I... love him."

Harvey starred long and hard, looked into those watery green eyes; Oswald may have been a psychopath or a sociopath, but for whatever reason... he excluded Jim from all the usual rules of the game he played, or at least from the typical deadly consequences. By proxy, he also never touched the people closest to Jim. It was a courtesy he offered none but Jim. In the world of mobsters that was as good as a written declaration of loyalty, better than a love letter. 

Harvey knew that, had seen it running through their interactions all along. It was too much like what Harvey himself once had with Fish for comfort some days, which was irritating and left a bitter aftertaste in the back of his throat. 

Things on the dock had been chaotic, mass pandemonium, cameras and reporters swarming the area. The reports that it was payback for Commissioner Gordon utterly dismantling the ring of the biggest crime bosses across the river had the media frothing at the mouth. 

Oswald arrived on scene not long after the media and he stormed in with his men like the cavalry there to rescue that one particular hostage, the Commissioner. 

The lunatic had taken the little restaurant during some FBI meeting with Jim over what he'd gotten on the mobster, which was a great deal. No one knew how the gunman knew where they would be or found Jim, but they could guess money changed hands somewhere. He let the customers go, then agents, little by little but he kept Jim through it all. He dragged Jim, bleeding and battered to a car with one other agent and managed to get two blocks to the docks even after they shot out his back tire. 

It could have been an act, the way Oswald had looked when they saw Jim covered in blood, cut up and barely on his feet. He could have faked his pure desperation, offering the man the moon if he would just let Jim go. It could have been an act the way Oswald's men had to hold him back and out of the water when Jim was stabbed three times in the chest and tossed into the river while the man made his escape.

It could have been an act. 

He had just needed to be sure. He needed to look into those beady eyes up close and ask the questions. He had to be sure. 

"Promise me something, Penguin..." Harvey lowered his gun, sliding it back into place at his hip, "find the guy before I do! Because I don't want him arrested. Knowing who he's gotta be connected to, there is a chance he might get away with it and if I find him first, I'll have to arrest him."

Oswald blinked at him owlishly, swallowing hard as he gathered his bearings, but the words sunk in eventually and the flames returned to his eyes, "Oh, I can assure you, detective Bullock, I have every intention of finding him first! When I do, there won't be enough left of him to put in jail."

Harvey nodded solemnly, "I'll hold you to that. And if he says anything helpful about who hired him while he's with you, do me a favor and pass it along."

"I believe, for once, we can agree on something. However... if he offers me names... you probably won't get to put them in jail either."

Harvey nearly smiled, "I'm glad we understand each other, Penguin." He turned to leave but stopped, unable to take another step until he knew one last thing, "I know you have people looking for Jim's body... if- if you find anything... that's one thing I'm hoping you really do pass along to me."

Something softer, sad and vulnerable entered Oswald's face, "That... I will pass along."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it sounds bad, just trust me, it will get better


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trust me just a little longer

Gotham was the place of dreams and nightmares twisted up together. It was full of oxymorons and contradictions so outlandish they could not be true, yet they were. Gotham, she liked to keep her people on their toes, keep them in suspense. 

Other cities could never hope to understand Gotham or keep up with her. Moving to Gotham from other places must have been like moving to an alien planet where the rules a person was used to no longer applied. For the native born, it was hardly shocking when the rules of the world were inverted. 

Life could take some wild turns, Oswald had learned that well, and he was very good at anticipating them. But some twists even Oswald Cobblepot could not hope to predict.

Oswald was more than slightly astounded by what transpired that day. Everything he woke up believing that morning had been turned on its head. He was half certain something somewhere along the lines had happened to him, possibly a head injury. It was the only logical explanation to how he found himself in the passenger seat of a car, racing down main street, handcuffed to a dead man. 

* * *

**Earlier** :

Oswald was relentless in his search, thirsty for blood the way he had not been in years. He was as eager to spill Carl Green's blood on Gotham's or any other sidewalk as he had been to rip Galavan limb from limb. One way or another, he would see Jim's killer six feet under. He would burn anyone that got in his way. 

His people scurried about, desperate, in a frenzy to find Green so they might finally be able to have their lives back to normal, or keep their lives in general. Penguin had been considerably more violent tempered since the Commissioner's murder and the general hope was that catching the killer would ease a bit of the trouble. 

It was the blanket understanding of the situation that had every employee in the room frozen in trepidation when Edward Nygma rolled his eyes and said, "Oswald, I really don't see _why_ you're going to so much trouble over this. If anything, you should be _thanking_ Green for saving you and I a whole world of trouble in the future! Jim Gordon can't _sabotage_ us at every turn or keep us on a _leash_ anymore." He smiled wide and full of teeth, "With him out of the picture, we're as good as _ruling_ Gotham already." 

Penguin's posture stiffened impossibly, and he turned very slowly from his study of the window to focus on his companion, eyes gone cold and dangerous, "You know what I really don't see, Ed?" Even Riddler tensed, eyes narrowing a fraction as he sensed the shift in the room, "I don't see how what I chose to do is any of your business."

Riddler leaned forward in his chair, hands falling to grip the armrests as if he expected to need to rise quickly, "I just think you're looking at this the wrong way. You're not considering the benefits it offers us."

Oswald's cool look grew to an outright glare and he took a few menacing steps forward, "Oh, is that it? I'm just looking at it the wrong way. What way am I supposed to look at it?"

Ed's chest expanded in a deep inhalation and he tried an alternate approach entirety, clearly growing uncomfortable in the face of Oswald's escalating temper, "I have no end and I am the ending of all beginnings. What am I?" 

Oswald huffed his disapproval, "I am very much not in the mood, Ed!" He moved into the other man's space, managing now to tower over him in his seated positions, their legs nearly touching, "You act like it's such a small thing! Like any boss from another territory can send some low level idiot to kill our Police Commissioner, to kill our people! _How exactly is that a small thing_?"

Ed's fingers twitched on the arm rest, craning his neck to keep an eye on the man's face, "I'm saying that Jim was the only one we couldn't corrupt. The rest all fall into line but Jim would never break or even bend unless it fit his needs. Eventually we would have had to do something about him anyway."

Oswald leaned down to eye level with Riddler, his hands dropping onto the arm rests to support him as he searched the man's eyes for truths he would not speak aloud, "After everything we went through, after we stood on the precipice of utter destruction beside him not but three years ago... you're telling me his death does nothing to you? That it stirs no sense of loss or even rage in your gut?"

Ed's eyes softened but his expression hardened, "He was an obstacle, Oswald. Eventually we would have been forced to make the call ourselves. This way, at least it can't be tied back to us."

Oswald slapped the leather back of the chair with both hands, leaning so far forward that Edward had no choice but to recline as far back as the chair allowed, "I can't believe you," Oswald bellowed, his eyes narrowing to thin slits, "In fact, I don't believe you!"

"Oswald-" Ed tried but was cut off. 

The anger bubbling in Penguin was nearly boiling right over, "All these years! All our fights! And you haven't killed him any more than I have! I know, I _know_ that deep down you didn't expect this day, you didn't _want_ this day! As much as he exasperated us, infuriated us, made us want to skin him alive... we also came to depend on his stability..." He dropped his voice to something intimate and quiet, "You can't accept that he's gone any more than I can. He's saved us both more than once, risked his life to do it... and I know you relied on him for it, believed in him for it... loved him for it."

Ed stiffened and shut his eyes as if doing so would erase what he heard, "...I think... you shouldn't project your feelings for Jim onto me, Oswald."

Oswald's voice reclaimed the edge it had lost at the end, "Am I projecting, Ed, or are you not ready to admit it to yourself? Are you simply not ready to mourn what was stolen from us?"

He locked eyes with the other man, one hand dropping to the blade in his green suit pocket even if he did not intend to pull it and was not foolish enough to do so with armed guards in the room, "He's dead, Oswald, me admitting or not admitting anything will not change that."

"I know you! I've seen the way you looked at him, the way you looked at him when they hung a metal around his neck. You say you wanted him dead but you always stopped short of killing him. Why? Because you couldn't imagine a world without him! He made you feel safe because you knew if it came to it, you could rely on him; he would step in front of a bullet for us if we needed it. "

"I rely on myself, not Jim Gordon! Not even entirely on you!" Ed hissed angrily, "His death means nothing to me! You only want it too mean something to me so it will justify what you feel! You want me to empathize and identify with how you feel so you project your feelings onto me. That doesn't mean I care what happened to him!"

"You do care, you're just too much of a coward to admit it!" Oswald spat, "like always!"

"Enough!" Ed snarled, "It's time to move on from this, you can't bring him back! There isn't even a body! There won't be any miracles this time! Whatever we feel or don't feel doesn't matter because he's _gone_!"

Oswald spun away, then seemed to regret the sudden motion, favoring his leg as he put distance between them. 

Riddler climbed to his feet quickly, not eager to be pinned in the chair again. He straightened his suit with more force than was needed. Regardless, after a moment he seemed to deflate where he stood, the indignation draining out of him like water from a punctured waterballoon.

He looked at Oswald, almost puppy like, "It's not the first time we've lost someone and it undoubtedly will not be the last."

"That doesn't mean we should turn to stone, Ed." Oswald insisted, much of his fire gone out, leaving him looking only tiredly resigned, "The heart is a delicate creature, but she beats on no matter how much is taken. I've tried to close off my heart before, Ed, per your advice. It never took... but then, it never quite took for you either, even if it did become a bit twisted, perhaps."

"Then feel what you must. Make them rue the day they touched what was our right alone to take," Ed took a deep breath, seeming to mentally right himself, "Do what you did with Galavan," he pushed his glasses up his nose like fixing his armor, "Get it out of your system so you can move on with your _life_."

Oswald starred at him, visibly stunned and struggling to find his stance after the sudden shift. 

Ed continued in Oswald's silence, "Make them pay for what they took... balance the scales. Once they are right, it's not your responsibility anymore." He took a step for the door, "Take back what you need to move on. Don't live in someone else's shadow forever, Oswald. Find some sun for yourself."

With that, he was gone, perhaps less steady than when he entered. Edward Nygma, or perhaps the Riddler always was horrible at accepting his own humanity. 

* * *

It took days, but one clue dug up another, and another until it became a trail like breadcrumbs Oswald followed. He would have made quite the detective if he applied himself to the other side of the law. Eventually, there were three locations the man could be hiding and Oswald intended to investigate them personally. The first location was as empathy as a ghost town, but the second was a blooming forest ripe with success. 

Oswald and his men watched the killer of James Gordon; clad in sunglasses and a ball cap; slink into the tiny apartment complex in the New Narrows. Lee would have been furious to know where, of all places, the man hid himself; they might not be lovers anymore, but she was close enough to Jim to grieve her share. He would not tell Lee where he found the man, he couldn't sour the wound even further for her. 

Green was tall, he'd been taller than Jim when he held the knife to Jim's throat. He was also very muscular, very tan, and even handsome, but that was about to change. All Oswald could think of was that he did not even look sorry, but he soon would. 

"Stay here." Oswald ordered as he flung the car door open. 

"You sure, boss? We could go with you." One of his guards asked nervously, mentally sizing up the muscle of the other man versus that of the Penguin. 

"I'm sure!" Oswald snipped, "I'll call you when I need you."

This first encounter, the moment of revenge, he wanted to be alone for. Or, mostly alone. Zsasz's car was right behind his and he motioned for the man to follow; that was another thing Jim's death changed. 

Zsasz might not be sentimental as a rule, but he owed Jim a few debts. It was the catalyst that drove Oswald to contact the man again and reconcile the only way people like them knew how to. 

It was poetic in its own way. He and Victor Zsasz had gotten Jim his job back together and now they would be getting his revenge. It almost seemed to travel full circle. 

Zsasz nearly had a spring in his step as he joined Oswald, checking his clip before sliding it home again with a grin, "Let's do this, boss, like old times!"

Oswald nodded, unable to bring words onto his tongue. 

Zsasz got them past the lock on the main door in under three seconds and they sauntered in like they weren't breaking in. It was the Narrows anyway, locked entrances were far from a real deterrent. 

"So, uh, how you doing with all this?" Zsasz nudged him with an elbow, "I mean, back in the day you two were... ya know, _close_ and all. Rumor had it that one time, I didn't spread this rumor, never repeated it, but the rumor was that you two-"

"What rumor?" Oswald snapped. 

Zsasz arched his hairless brow ridges to convey his incredulity, "I was about to get to that."

"Who spread rumors!" Oswald demanded, almost forgetting to keep his voice down as they climbed the stairs. 

"Ivy," he relied easily, "back before you two parted ways."

"What did she say?" Oswald's temper was already tugging from cold rage at Green to something hotter. 

Zsasz looked at him and likely noted the slight tint of red in his checks, "I probably shouldn't have brought it up. I mean, it was just a rumor. It was a bit over the top anyway, kind of sexy though." Oswald's mouth fell open, and Zsasz nodded, "I know I’m shocked too! But like, not totally.”

"I..." Oswald shook his head in dismay, "what?"

Zsasz cocked his head, "Ya know, we should talk about it later. We don't wanna be noticed. He might get away." He picked up his pace and moved into the lead, bounding up the last few steps. Oswald raced after him, ignoring the pain shooting up his leg, shelving that conversation for another time. 

They found what they were looking for, a dark little corner at the end of the hall with the overhead light burned out. It was likely good because that way no one could see the dead bugs littering the hallways. Rumor had it, he was hiding in 414.

Zsasz was totally silent, unlocking the door and easing it open without a sound, no hint of their presence. His movements were like a cat stalking prey and Oswald followed close on his heels after they slid the door shut. 

He was seated on a couch, the drone of a sport channel holding his attention. 

They rounded one corner that opened up into a roomy living room with a round about hallway they might have to chase him through. Apparently Zsasz had the same idea because he hurried down the hall and emerged on the other side, gun trained on the unsuspecting man's head. Zsasz looked to him and gave a sharp nod. 

Oswald took only a second more to look at the man he'd been trying so hard to find before he adjusted his grip on the gun and let out a falsely cheery, "Hello there, Mr Green!" The man jumped a foot, wide eyes darting to him as he scrambled for what had to be a gun under the sofa. 

Zsasz tisked, "I wouldn't, pal. Bad idea! Unless you wanna get something shot off."

Green froze, the color draining from his face even before he turned his head to find the hit man. He eased his hands up, heeding the warning even as he slid to his feet.

"What can I do for you, gentlemen?" To his credit, he sounded calm, vibrato to his voice. 

"We have been looking for you, sir!" Oswald found himself laughing, fake and exaggerated in its friendliness though it was.

Green looked at him, something clicking into place, "You were down at the docs."

Oswald smiled and shrugged playfully, allowing himself the pleasure of the hunt, the cat and mouse, "That I was! Good memory!"

Carl was visibly running through his options, trying to stay calm and reasonably on his toes, "You've been looking for me huh? Well, you found me, so what is this visit about?"

Oswald let his smile drop, "You came to my fair city and you broke the rules, sir! No one in this city goes after a cop without asking express permission from the powers that be!" He smiled again, this time sharper, "Which would be me."

Carl blinked at him, "I'm... sorry. I'll ask next time."

"Kinda doubt there will be a next time, buddy." Zsasz put in, sounding like he was chastising a toddler, "Penguin and Gordon go waaaaay back! They had a _thing_ , an understanding. Mutual pinning sort of thing-"

"Thank you, Zsasz!" Oswald cut across, feeling the raw section of nerve coming to the surface to make the pain and sorrow harder to ignore even in the rush of victory. 

"Hey, listen-" Carl tried, big green eyes panicked. 

"NO, you listen!" Oswald shouted, "Jim was an old friend! He was a hero in this city, a paragon, a monument to our survival. He deserved better than to be stabbed and tossed into the river like an animal!"

He licked his lips nervously, feet shifting him in place, desperate to run but smart enough not to ignite the situation faster, "Listen, let's talk about this." His voice was so smooth, so falsely calm for a man staring down the barrel of a gun. 

"Let's not," Oswald put on the same false calm, but his was considerably colder and more calculated. 

"We really should talk... there are things I think I should explain to you about the situation," Green persisted. 

Oswald tightened his finger on the trigger, taking care to let his leather glove creak so it would be noticeable, "Nothing you have to say is of any particular interest to me."

The man's eyes darted upwards as if seeking answers he hoped to find, "There are a few things I think would _really_ be of interest to you, if you can... take a moment to calm yourself-"

Oswald snarled, showing his teeth, "I'm perfectly calm! Thank you very much!"

"Oswald!" The voice suddenly behind him was like ice water hitting his veins. 

Oswald whirled around, the other man forgotten entirely in that moment, his presence sunk into irrelevance. There were other things far more important to Oswald, such as his heart relocating to his throat. He lost the ability to breathe, adrift, lost, too in shock to think. 

His general sense of danger was instantly running in overdrive. Panic set in like a train running over the top of him. He could not breathe! Or maybe he was breathing too fast. Either way, his head was fuzzy and his eyes were watering, and he could not think of a way to respond. 

It had to be a ghost, an apparition haunting him even now. The voice of reason and hopeless, blind morality taking shape as it always had. He could not dream of a world without that haughty voice of reason so his mind produced it or the city herself had. 

"Jim," he gasped out, surprised he spoke around the lump in his throat. 

"Uh, hey, boss, I think we've got a problem or two." Zsasz called and managed to penetrate the delirium enough to enable Oswald to notice the horde of armed men flooding through the entryway. They were not his men. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for conspiring with me, CaptainChilly! ♡ the stairs conversation was very much a gift from Cap to the world.


End file.
